


Come Fly With Me

by TriaKane



Series: Designated Hitter [8]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Mary Sue-ish, OFC - Freeform, Phone Sex, but in the past tense, hey a girl can dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3152291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriaKane/pseuds/TriaKane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set immediately after The Queen's Gambit Job, Eliot flies part of the way home with his team and the rest of the way with someone special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I manipulated the flight times to fit my needs, and I’ve never been to London Heathrow Airport, so locations and descriptions are pure fiction.
> 
> OFC is a female immortal who is telepathic. This is set just over a year after they met. Eliot has been made aware that she is immortal.
> 
> Thanks to Kelly and Kerensa for the beta. I did change a lot after the fact, so all mistakes are mine. Shrug.

**_London Heathrow Airport_ **

Eliot led his team off the plane, his eyes taking in their surroundings as they made their way to the connecting flight to Boston. While Nate checked the status of their connecting flight, Eliot fingered the cell phone in his pants pocket. Once his team was squared away, he would check to see if Lyn had responded. 

Shortly before boarding the plane in Dubai, he’d texted her to see if she was finished with her business and could meet him in London so they could fly back to Boston together. He knew she’d been in Madrid and had a meeting in Boston the next day, he just hoped she hadn’t already left. They tried to keep each other updated on their business and travel in case they could steal time away together. It wasn’t a perfect situation, but it seemed to work out for the most part.

With a two hour layover, Nate suggested they grab an early dinner. Eliot followed them to a restaurant and after comforting himself that the team was in no immediate danger, excused himself to check his phone.

“Boy got it bad,” Hardison said softly, gesturing after Eliot.

Sophie and Nate smiled knowingly at each other. Parker kept her eyes on Eliot as he walked away and wondered if what he ‘had’ was contagious. 

***

Away from his team, Eliot read the text from Lyn.

_**BA from Madrid lands 1830, booked us BA departing 2100. Meet outside Terminal 3, BA lounge.** _

He’d have dinner with the team, get them on the plane and then wait an hour for Lyn’s plane to land. Things were looking up.

***

Quickening her pace, Lyn stepped past other passengers, looking ahead, excitement building as she neared the British Airways first-class lounge, anxious to see him. Her heart thumped quickly in her chest. 

It had been three weeks since they’d last seen each other – a four hour layover in Dallas after Eliot returned from Ecuador — and short phone calls, sexy texts, a couple of FaceTime dates and one incendiary email where she described in explicit detail how she’d like to suck his cock until he begged to come, had just made the need – _want_ – worse.

She smiled, thinking about the phone call after the email.

_“...made my eyeballs sweat... so hot...”_

_“...you want it?”_

_“...touch yourself for me...”_

_“...uh... yeahh...”_ clothes rustling

 _“...aw, damn... bet you’re so wet...”_ zipper opening

_“...always... for you...”_

_“...fuck, fuck, fuck...”_

_“...yes, yes... oh, El...”_

_“Lyn... fuck...”_

And then she saw him, the memory of his voice as he came fresh in her mind. She couldn’t help herself, she stopped and stared at him. He was leaning against the wall, his hips thrust forward, the pose provocative even if unintentional. 

He’d watched her approach and then stop, fifteen feet away, so close he could hear her if she whispered. About to make a move towards her, he noticed the expression on her face, the naked desire, the eager want, the growing excitement. He smiled slowly and crooked a finger at her.

 _Come here,_ he mouthed.

She swung her hair back and slowly walked to him, unable to stop the smile that threatened to explode across her face.

“Hi,” he said softly, reaching behind her neck to pull her in.

At first, it was just a kiss of greeting, a reminder, but when he felt her lips open beneath his, he was lost. But then, so was she. Their bodies remembered the song and danced accordingly. She stepped into him, her body fitting snugly against his, feeling his strength. He drew her closer, inhaling her intoxicating scent and the warmth of her body. She made him ache. 

“There’s not enough time,” she said, reading his mind and smiling as he ruefully shook his head.

“There’s never enough time.”

She threw her head back and laughed suddenly, remembering the line from one of the many movies ( _Timecop_ ) they had watched while he recovered after he’d been injured fighting Roper and the others at the carnival nearly three months prior.

Gently caressing his bruised right cheek, she was suddenly serious. “You look tired. And when’s the last time you ate?”

She knew from past experience that he slept little and ate even less while working, too focused on getting the job done and getting his people out safely. And while he didn’t like being coddled, she knew she could get away with it to a certain extent.

As if on cue, Eliot’s stomach growled.

She leaned back and pointedly looked at his stomach. 

He laughed and let her lead him into the lounge. He’d let her have her way, and then he’d have her.

***

The lounge was surprisingly crowded so they behaved themselves, sharing a seating area with a business traveler who was chatty. When he’d finally left to catch his flight, Eliot leaned close to Lyn’s ear.

“You know, I can bribe someone to give us 15 minutes in a locked closet.”

She pretended to think about it, looking around, but finally her eyes met his.

“I’m greedy, I want more than that,” she said huskily.

She felt him chuckle against her neck and leaned her head against his. Being close enough to touch was _almost_ enough.

***

Four hours into their seven and a half hour flight, Lyn woke and stretched, cramped even in the first class seat.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Eliot whispered. He pushed her hair back and stroked her cheek.

“Did you sleep?” she asked, but already knew the answer, telepathic or not. 

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “But I had a good time watching you. You talked in your sleep.”

Lyn smiled at his teasing. “Oh yeah? What’d I say?”

He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “You were begging me to let you come.”

She shook her head. “I don’t beg.”

His left eyebrow rose a fraction. “Seems to me, I’ve heard you beg.”

“Nope, not me.”

“That a challenge?”

She shrugged and smiled.

***

As they had no checked baggage, their time at Boston Logan Airport was short and they hailed a cab, choosing to go to his place since it was closer to the airport and also closer to where they each had to go the next morning. 

It was just after five when Eliot let them into his place. Even though they’d been seeing each other for over a year, this was Lyn’s first visit to his place. 

The building had originally been a factory, built in the late 1800’s, and remodeled into condos more recently. Eliot had bought the place unfinished and put in the sweat equity to call it his own; he was proud of the space he’d created.

“It’s really nice, El,” Lyn said, looking around the comfortable space.

Lyn followed him into the bedroom, seeing a double bed, chest of drawers and single bedside table. A heavy bag hung in the corner.

“Made that,” he said, gesturing to the chest of drawers.

He dropped onto the bed as she slowly stroked her hand over the smooth wood. It was a flawless sanding and polishing job. The stain he’d used was a honey color that brought out the beauty of the wood. She guessed it was walnut since oak was a tougher wood. She pulled out the top drawer a couple inches and studied the dovetail joints.

“This is qual—” Eliot had laid back on the bed and fallen asleep.

Lyn smiled as she heard him snore softly. He was still completely dressed, splayed across the entire width of the bed, totally passed out. She was glad he felt comfortable enough to fall asleep with her there. At earlier times in their relationship, she knew he’d been unable to fall asleep first, unable to relax enough until he knew she was asleep. She pulled the corners of the quilt around him the best she could and left him to sleep, unwilling to wake him even if he might be more comfortable.

After using the restroom, Lyn slipped out of her clothes and made herself comfortable on the old leather couch, covering herself with a blanket folded on the back. She set the alarm on her phone and went to sleep. They’d only get a couple hours of sleep before they had to be awake and functioning again.

***

Lyn felt her phone vibrate and reached for it with her eyes closed. It wasn’t on the bedside table as usual. Opening her eyes, she looked around.

_Eliot’s place._

Picking up her phone from the arm of the comfortable leather couch, she acknowledged the reminder of her meeting in an hour and turned off her alarm, set to go off in another minute. She pulled back the blanket and walked towards the bedroom doorway. 

Eliot was still exactly where he’d passed out only four hours ago; it looked like he hadn’t moved an inch while he slept. She smiled as she studied his face, stepping closer to his prone form. The bruise on his right cheek was a little darker, but there was no obvious swelling. She hoped he’d given as good as he got, he rarely talked about his work or any specifics, but she knew he could hold his own.

Knowing he needed to wake up for a meeting of his own, Lyn reached to touch his leg. At the slight touch, Eliot shot up, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her down on top of him.

Laughing, she pulled free, wrapping her arms around him, kissing him soundly.

“Oh man,” he said, taking in his position on the bed and the rumpled quilt. “Did I pass out?”

“Yeah,” she answered, kissing his jaw.

“In the middle of bed?”

“Yep.” She kissed under his chin.

“Sorry,” he said, holding her hair back, his eyes studying her face.

“You’re gonna have to get a bigger bed if we’re gonna make a habit out of this,” she told him, winking.

Liking her comment, Eliot sat up, pulling Lyn onto his lap, noticing her short tee-shirt and skimpy panties.

“Let me make it up to you.” His voice was deep and husky, sending a spark of desire coursing through her. 

“We have places to be,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she felt his fingertips stroke over the thin fabric between her legs.

“Fuck!” He growled against her neck, standing suddenly and pulling her into the bathroom. “Gotta shower.”

As he reached in to turn the shower on, Lyn quickly pulled off her tee-shirt and tossed it at his back. Eliot turned then, seeing the playful expression on her face, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the shower, under the warm spray.

“Oh!”

“You wanna play?” he asked, hoisting her up, her legs automatically going around his waist. 

“Your clothes are gonna get soaked,” she said, her hands bunching in the fabric of his multiple layers of shirts.

“Mmm... so are you,” he laughed, thrusting his hips against her, the cold metal of his belt buckle pressing into the tender flesh between her legs, but she was too far gone to care.

He gripped the thin scrap of fabric and tore her panties off. With one hand she held on to him, with the other Lyn tried to help him get his pants undone. 

Her touch was driving him insane, she wanted him as much as he wanted her, but it had been too long, and feeling her warm and willing in his arms, he was drowning. Grabbing her hands, he lifted her arms above her head and held them there, only her legs wrapped around his waist and his body pushing against hers kept her in place.

Keeping one hand on her wrists, Eliot reached between them, unbuttoning and unzipping as quickly as possible, the back of his hand rubbed against her, teasing. Finally, finally, the wet denim gave way enough and his cock was free. He shifted and plunged up into her.

“Ah, ah.” Her eyes closed as he thrust--hard, aggressive, needy thrusts. “Please.” She twisted her wrists in his grasp, needing to touch herself, wanting to accept the oblivion he was leading her towards.

“Wanna come?” he grunted, knowing what she wanted to do.

She saw the grin on his face as he continued pounding into her. It was so good, felt so good, but she needed just a little more. She knew she could make him release her, but where would the fun be in that? His thoughts ( _tight... wet... damn... fuck..._ ) were coursing through her blood and she knew, **knew** it wouldn’t take much, knew what he wanted to hear.

“Make me,” she huffed between thrusts. “Please.”

His grin widened, nearly feral. “My pleasure, darlin’.”

His mouth closed around her nipple, the sharp edge of his teeth grazed the sensitive bud. She hissed in pleasure, pushing against him, so close. And then finally, blessedly, his thumb was on her clit, circling, flicking.

Twisting her head to the side, Lyn was all afire, close, so close. Eliot’s mouth was on her neck, her shoulder, licking, sucking, and then, as he felt her start to come, he bit, his teeth breaking skin as she cried out, clenching around him.

“Aw, fuck,” she cried out.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, groaning as he thrust twice more before coming deep inside her.

He released her arms then and let her legs slip from around his waist. Leaning against the wall, his fingers traced over the already healing bite mark. Even though he knew, had seen for himself, he still had to double check that she was healing.

She cupped his cheek and softly kissed his lips before slipping from the shower. Wrapping a towel around herself, she heard him start to cuss.

“Son of a bitch!”

She laughed softly as she listened to a string of curses as he struggled with his wet clothes – the soaked shirts, the heavy, wet denim, the work boots and their soaked laces which wouldn’t budge. While he fought with his water logged gear, Lyn dressed quickly.

As she slipped into a pair of heels, Eliot stepped into the living room, a towel wrapped low on his hips, his wet hair pushed back, beads of water still clung to his shoulders and chest. She briefly considered staying and licking them from his skin.

“That my shirt?” he asked, looking at the pale blue dress shirt she wore. She’d buttoned a couple of the buttons and tied the ends in a loose knot.

She looked down, shrugged and met his gaze. “Uh huh.”

The shirt rose when she lifted her arms to twist her hair into a relaxed bun and he studied the strip of exposed skin, thinking about carrying her back to his bed and making them both late. 

“See ya later?” she asked, picking up her shoulder bag and stepping towards the door. 

“Wait a sec,” he said, turning to the chest of drawers. He opened the wooden box on top and pulled something out. 

“Here,” he said, as he set a key ring with a single key in her palm. “In case you’re done before I am.”

She looked at the key ring, recognizing it from their first trip together and the carnival they’d gone to. The key ring was a silver crab; she had a matching one. It was his zodiac sign and also hers, albeit she’d arbitrarily chosen the date only a hundred years ago, unsure of her true ‘birth’ date.

“Thanks.” She leaned into him, kissing him softly and turned for the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyn spends a little time at Eliot's loft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although this story is set after The Queen's Gambit Job and before The Experimental Job, I needed another case (and time) in between.
> 
> I intended this part to be all about Eliot's place, but the story didn't want to be told that way. Instead there's some of their history (will be told fully in future stories) and her history. Hope you enjoy. 
> 
> I wish I could tell the stories in sequence, but sometimes my Eliot muse gets really insistent about what I tell. How can I say no to him? :)

An hour later, Lyn’s phone chimed. It was Eliot’s text tone.

“If it’s Senor Mendoza, I’ll accept his offer,” she told the man across the table from her. She knew he was holding out for a better offer, but now, there was the pressure of a potential offer from a competitor.

“You have a deal.” He signed the contract before she could check the message.

_**Job out of town. Sorry.** _

She shook her head ruefully. 

“Good thing you signed,” she reassured the man, then stood and shook his hand. Their respective lawyers gathered the papers while Lyn texted back.

_**Should I stay at your place?** _

Even though she had her own place in Boston, she liked the idea of staying at his instead, but she wasn’t sure how he would feel about her being in his home without him. She’d opened her home in Chicago and here in Boston to him, letting him have unrestricted access, but her secrets had been heavily guarded. Now that he knew about her immortality, it wasn’t even an issue. 

_**Like the thought of it. Make yourself at home.**_ She smiled to herself, liking the thought of it too.

***

Exiting the Maverick Metro ‘T’ stop, Lyn called to confirm the delivery of a package—her sword, to Eliot’s, as she walked the short distance to his place. With only outdoor parking available, she wondered where he housed his precious truck and car. _Definitely a garage,_ she mused as she walked the two flights up to his loft.

The loft was quiet as she entered, setting her shoulder bag on the small table beside the door. There was a small glass bowl on the table that she dropped the key into, imagining him doing the same. 

Looking around the loft, she noticed the way the hardwood floors gleamed as the early morning sun filled the loft with light from the floor to ceiling windows. The wall behind the couch was exposed brick, rough and masculine. There wasn’t a lot of furniture, or decoration, but the place felt warm, lived in. Comfortable. 

She turned to his kitchen, taking up more than half the living space. The granite counters were void of any clutter save a single wooden block of knives. The bottom cabinets were dark wood while the top ones were white with glass panels in the doors; the contents were neatly organized. A stainless steel Sub-zero refrigerator and double wall ovens took up one wall with a farmhouse sink in the middle. In the middle of the massive kitchen island was a six burner gas cooktop. There were two stools across from the cooktop. The room was pure Chef Eliot. Crisp, clean. 

She pulled open a closet door, guessing it was a pantry, only to be surprised to find a stackable washer and dryer. The next door she opened was the pantry: military organization. Lightly, she traced her fingers over the boxes and bottles, unsurprised at any of the contents. The truffle oil. The Mexican vanilla. The pork rinds. 

She laughed out loud, remembering him introducing them to her. That silly smile on his face as he held out the open bag to her, and then growling at her when she took the bag from him and finished them. _Just a year ago,_ she mused. _And here we are now._

She opened the freezer and saw the same organization. A place for everything and everything in its place. Even the containers were labeled. Randomly picking one up, she read, _Bolognese Sauce – May 2011._ Deciding on it for dinner, she filled the sink with water and set the container in it to thaw.

Her phone alerted her to the package being delivered, and a few minutes later her sword was safely in her possession once more. She’d had it so long, it was an extension of herself. She trained with other swords, and had even used other swords in challenges, but this one was special. It had been a gift from Methos at the end of her training so many years ago. 

Leaving the sword case on the couch, she used the bathroom, releasing her hair from the bun, she brushed it out and left it loose. She noticed Eliot’s waterlogged boots drying on the rug beside the shower. She wondered if his boots would survive, certain they were waterproof, but not sure if that meant the same thing when they got water inside.

Deciding to do a little shopping, Lyn picked up her shoulder bag and the key; she wanted to buy some fresh pasta to go with Eliot’s sauce and maybe some wine. She headed out to the “T” and the North End to her favorite Italian store.

***

The loft was cool in the early afternoon when she returned. She put the pasta in the fridge, but set the cabernet on the counter so it could adjust to the inside temperature. She’d also bought a loaf of Italian bread and a hazelnut cannoli from Mike’s. She left her other package by the door.

She kicked off her heels, unzipped her skirt and slid it down, folding it over the arm of the couch. The comfy looking leather chair and ottoman seemed to be calling her name. The leather was cool against her bare legs as she sat and put her feet on the ottoman. She could tell it was Eliot’s usual place, the leather taking on a hint of his scent as it had aged. 

The side table held a reading lamp and a single bar coaster bearing the logo for John McRory’s Pub. There were several books on the shelf that reflected his varied reading tastes: westerns, scifi, biographies, _Fifty Shades of Grey_... 

_What!_ she thought, astounded. _Really?_

She shrugged, pulling the book out and opening it to a random page, settling in to read.

An hour later, she closed the book and set it back where she’d found it. 

_Boring,_ she declared. 

She’d heard all the hype when the book had first come out earlier that summer, but hadn’t felt the need to pick the book up, and now she was quite glad she hadn’t. 

Deciding she needed a little distraction to take her mind off the dull story, Lyn looked around the living room. There were two guitars in stands in the corner near the end of the couch. She recognized the one she had custom-made by a guitar maker in Tennessee. The other was older, but she could tell it was well used and loved. 

Above the couch was a charcoal sketch of running horses. There wasn’t a television, which didn’t surprise her very much. There were shelves along the bedroom wall, and she stood to take a better look. A stereo with a turntable sat on the bottom shelf, with records filling two others. 

_Old school._ She smiled.

She flipped through a few, noticing his eclectic tastes in music once again... everything from The Beatles to Janis Joplin to Eddy Arnold to Led Zeppelin to Nina Simone to Marvin Gaye. A stack of CDs caught her eye, she recognized most of them, but one made her shake her head in surprise.

Dar Williams. _The Beauty of the Rain._

She slid the CD case from the stack and caressed it, thinking about when she’d introduced him to her music. Dancing and making love under the stars. And that’s what they’d been doing by then, even if they hadn’t been aware of it at the time.

An ache of longing swept over her. It was simple: she missed him. In the last eighty years, she hadn’t felt this. Not since... since her beloved Thomas, the only mortal she had ever told of her immortality. A man she had loved and married, spending more than 70 years together. Even as time had aged him, Lyn had never stopped loving him, caring for him until the end. His death, though expected, had been devastating, sending her into a downward spiral of self-destruction. She’d hunted other immortals, taking unnecessary chances in challenges, almost seeking out death, until Methos had found her again. 

He’d heard the rumors, already involved with Watchers, and sought her out. He helped her exorcise her demons, tempering her anger and grief, and refocusing her attention on others who needed her help. She ended up in Paris working with the Resistance, before going undercover in Berlin to help Jews escape Nazi persecution. Even now, sixty-five years later, she could remember the faces and names of each person she’d helped escape. But especially the ones she couldn’t.

So many years, so many people she’d loved and lost. She felt a deep sadness creep up on her, threatening to carry her back to that dark place of hopelessness and despair. Dwelling on the past had always been a precursor to her destructive periods. 

_No! No, no, no!_ She shook her head, trying to shake off the dark feelings. _Eliot’s not lost to me. He’s here._

She looked around the room once again. She could see him in the gourmet kitchen he’d designed to suit his tastes. In the hardwood floors she was sure he’d stripped and stained himself. In the guitar she knew he played beautifully. In the very CD she had in her hands. 

She replaced the CD in the stack and wandered into his bedroom. The room was completely in order, even the quilt was back in place. The only decoration in the room was the dark stained wooden box on the chest of drawers Eliot had pulled the spare key from that morning. 

The box was about 8 inches long, 4 inches wide and 4 inches tall, and as Lyn picked it up, she noticed a wolf face carved into the lid. Caressing the smooth face of the wolf, she thought about Eliot. He’d told her that he made the chest of drawers and she wondered if the box had been another project. Holding the top, she turned it over.

_**To: A.M. From: E.S. – 92** _

Aimee. He’d told Lyn a little about her. Lyn smiled, thinking of him as a young man, making this box for the woman he loved. Pulling off the lid, she looked inside. 

There was an old black and white photo on top of a man and a little girl. The girl looked to be about 3, and she was holding a puppy. The back held no further clues, but when she looked closely, she could see a similarity between them. If she’d had to guess, she would say it was Eliot’s mother and her father. Under the photo was an old recipe card. The writing was very fade, but she could make out the word ‘biscuit’ and ‘Spencer’ and wondered if the recipe had been his mother’s or grandmother’s.

Setting aside the photo and recipe, she recognized the baby blue jewelry bag from Tiffany’s: small hoop earrings she bought for him in Chicago.

She smiled, kissed the bag and set it back in the box. 

There was an antique man’s pocket watch. She wound it a bit, but found it didn’t work. There was also a simple gold band. It was old, she could tell, worn with time, but it still shined. There were some small items, a black guitar pick, a sea shell (which could have come from their stay in the U.S. Virgin Islands), a tiny glass bottle filled with red dirt (which could have come from their stay in Sedona, Arizona), a matchbook from the Beverly Hills Enclave (the first hotel they stayed at together). 

Even though there were only a few things in his keepsake box, she felt comforted by them. Even though she didn’t know the story behind most of the items, she knew they meant a lot to him. And that made them precious to her. 

She gently replaced the items and set the lid on the lovingly crafted box, setting it back on the top of the chest of drawers. Curiously, she opened the drawers one at a time, but found only what she’d expect from him: socks, hankies, underwear, undershirts, branded tee-shirts. She smiled at the orderliness, especially the folded underwear, remembering when he’d tried to fold her thongs.

She felt a little bad about snooping and resolved to stop but the closet beckoned. Promising to tell him about her activities, she opened the closet door. 

She had grabbed a dress shirt from his closet that morning, but hadn’t taken the time to really look. There were fewer clothes hanging in the closet than she expected. Thermals, flannels, dress shirts, dress pants, a sports jacket, a nice suit hung on hangers. A stack of jeans sat on the top shelf alongside a pair of dress shoes and an old pair of beat up cowboy boots. A newer pair of cowboy boots sat on the floor beside a pair of running shoes and two guitar boxes. The sight of the new cowboy boots made her remember their stay at Miss Ida’s Bed and Breakfast on their first trip together, and their shopping experience. Had it really only just been a year ago?

Lyn closed the closet door and stepped into the bathroom. His wet clothes from their morning activities were in a pile in the shower. 

_I guess he thought he’d be home to take care of them,_ she thought, then picked up the pile of heavy wet clothes and carried them into the kitchen, tossing them into the washer. It was rare that she could do simple tasks for him to take care of him. 

She felt a little at loose ends. It was too early for dinner and she didn’t have any pressing business to attend to. Looking around, she appreciated the open space. Slipping off his dress shirt, Lyn began a series of Tai Chi katas, first slowly, building in intensity and speed the longer she continued. Her form and precision were nearly flawless as she moved from one form to another, having practiced this art for over a hundred years. She went until large drops of sweat fell from her body, dotting the hardwood floors, and then went through the moves a final time, slower. 

Grabbing a towel from the kitchen, she wiped the floor and then went to take a shower. 

After her shower, Lyn dressed in a pair of Eliot’s boxers and a wife-beater, feeling closer to him that way. She put on the Dar William’s CD and opened the bottle of wine to breathe. Heating the thawed sauce and boiling the fresh pasta took little time, and soon she was sitting at the counter, eating her dinner. Thinking about Eliot, she wondered how many solitary meals he’d eaten at this counter. With only the two stools, she doubted he had company very often, but then, she was sure he enjoyed his peace and quiet. 

After she finished her dinner, she cleaned the kitchen, smiling to herself, hoping she had cleaned it to his satisfaction. She put his clothes in the dryer and sat down in his chair to eat her cannoli and enjoy another glass of wine. 

The next morning, after a restless night, Lyn cleaned the loft and left a note on the kitchen counter.

***

Four days later, Eliot let himself into the loft, already knowing it was empty; he’d gotten her text earlier when he’d checked his phone after the job was complete. He saw her note on the kitchen counter:

_E-_

_I like your place but your bed is too big when you’re not in it._

_xo_

_L_

_P.S. I think your boots are beyond hope._

_P.S.S. Your Bolognese sauce was divine._

He smiled and carried the note to the bedroom, ready for a shower and some sleep. Stopping short in the doorway, he saw a box on his bed.

_**Chippewa** _

Shaking his head, he stepped closer and pulled the lid off: new work boots.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he dialed her number and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Hey, you,” she answered. 

“Thanks for the boots,” he said.

“My pleasure,” she said.

“It’d be **my** pleasure if I could thank you in person,” he said huskily. “Where are you?”

“Back in Madrid. There was a hiccough I had to fix in person,” she said apologetically.

He sighed. “So, my bed’s too big?”

“Definitely. I got lonely.”

“Did ya?”

“Yeah,” she said, “I had to take care of myself.”

“In my bed?” he asked, picturing it.

“Uh huh,” she moaned softly, “under your sheets, wearing your boxers and beater.”

He saw them now, folded on top of his chest of drawers beside a folded blue dress shirt.

“Do tell,” he asked, leaning back, his hand already reaching for his zipper.

And she did. In great detail.

***

The next morning as Eliot made his way to his favorite coffee shop, he didn’t notice the extra spring in his step or the smile he had on his face. Perhaps it was because Lyn’s scent was all around him, wearing the boxers, beater and dress shirt she’d worn. Perhaps it was because he was in love. 

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a second part. :)


End file.
